But it seemed impossible to get behind Wildfire.
"At night--then--I could get round him," said Slone, thinking hard and narrowing his gaze to scan the circle of wall and slope.

"Why not?
...
No wind at night.

That grass would burn slow till mornin'-- till the wind came up--an' it's been west for days." Suddenly Slone began to pound the patient Nagger and to cry out to him in wild exultance.
"Old horse, we've got him! ...

We've got him! ...

We'll put a rope on him before this time to-morrow!" Slone yielded to his strange, wild joy, but it did not last long, soon succeeding to sober, keen thought.